


Heated

by irishlullaby13



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, bow chicka bow wow, y'all know why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:31:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: Not summary.  Just smut.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nathyfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathyfaith/gifts), [OriginalImpossibleSouffleGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalImpossibleSouffleGirl/gifts), [Kohthefacedealer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kohthefacedealer/gifts), [Majestrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majestrix/gifts).



Abbie yawns and stretches, the back of her hand going to her lips to hide her gapping mouth. Ichabod chuckles lightly and reached over to take her coffee cup. It is while he sees to this task that he notices the silken purple fabric of her robe has slipped off her knee and left a gap that trails almost all the way up to her...

“Urgh,” she scoffs. “I just hope tomorrow is better.” _A soft sigh as she lowers her arms and the material between her breasts falls open a little bit more than before_. Ichabod unintentionally stumbles and knocks into the island because he is distracted by the visual feast. His mouth goes dry as he sets to cleaning the two mugs that have been emptied of their pre-bedtime tea.

“Thanks for listening,” Abbie said softly.

Ichabod sets the mugs in the drain and meanders back over to her. “As the old saying goes... a burden shared is a burden halved.” She hasn't righted her robe by any means and his eyes drift right back to the smooth, warm skin of her chest. The silken length of her thigh calls out to his fingers—making them gently flick in frustration at not being able to reach out and feel the warmth.

“Sharing my work day is hardly a burden,” Abbie chuckles then reaches up to brush a rogue curl from his forehead and tuck it behind his ear. The motion makes the shoulder of her robe slip just a little bit further and his eyes lock on it. 

Suddenly he's acutely aware that there is nothing underneath her robe. They had been sitting in the kitchen chattering for nearly an hour and he hadn't noticed... Oh he had noticed the delicate fluttering for her lashes as he held on to her every word. He had even noticed the bend and curve of her lips when she bit her thumbnail while he shared an amusing tale about Franklin—the way her vibrant white teeth contrasted against brown skin that positively shimmers in the soft glow of the light over the stove.

Before he can stop himself, he reaches up to touch the edge of the fabric draping off of her shoulder. He delicately fingers the material, getting lost in the feel of it on his fingertips then pinched it between his thumb and index finger. His tongue darts out as, for a moment, his mind conjures the image of slowly pulling the robe even further open, peppering kisses along the curve of Abbie's shoulder...

The woman in question shifts slightly, sucking in a breath as she rubs her thighs together then carefully uncrosses her legs. Which of them moved first would be the eternal mystery—he claimed it was she, she insisted it was he. One thing which was mutually agreed upon was that their lips had come together in a frantic mix of teeth and tongue. Greedy fingers groped and tugged at clothes and bared just enough skin to do what they so urgently wished to do.

They are both euphoric the moment he sheathed himself inside of her, neither wanting to move for the space of a minute, afraid it would all end far too quickly if they didn't take time to revel in the heat that surrounded or filled them so perfectly.

Ichabod grasps Abbie's hips, pulling her closer to the edge of her seat. She clings to his arms when he rests his forehead against hers. They whisper dark promises as their heated breaths mingle and hips grind and thrust against each other in a timeless rhythm, their bodies singing the ancient song of pent of lovers coming together.

He grabs hold of the counter edge behind her, using it as leverage to drive deeper, harder, like she begs for. Then she she's wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly, crying out as with one hand she grips his hair and the other she digs her nails into his back and drags them down his flesh, leaving angry marks in their wake.

She bites his earlobe and hotly whispers, “Come for me, baby. I want it. Give it to me.” He is helpless to deny her command and drives into her frantically until she's keening again, coming so hard tears stream from her eyes and taking him with her.

Afterwards, they pant heavily. Again, not wanting to move. But this time its because they can't. Their bodies have been rendered numb from pleasure and can do nothing more twitch and tremble in the afterglow. The ability to move returns slowly. It starts with a soft, lingering kiss that fades into gentle touches.

They say nothing for a long moment, content to just softly nuzzle each other's noses and giggle as though they had just shared the most intimate secrets about themselves with each other. “Bedroom?” Abbie suggests softly.

“Bedroom,” Ichabod murmurs and hoists her off of the little barstool she had been perched upon throughout their liaison. She laughs and wraps her arms around his neck as he carries her off to the little room he slept in to make good on some of the heated promises they had shared. 

She had thought they would go to her room but... the night was still young. There was a chance they would make it there before sunrise.


End file.
